Chapter Sixty -one

Clay nervously approached the end of the hall, his destination the room that was straight ahead, the Great Room, which was where Sean and Marita's wedding would soon take place. Clay didn't know why he was there, why he was coming he tried to tell himself, but couldn't finish the thought, knowing that the "truth" was that he was there because he had no where else to go. For the few friends he could pay a call where no doubt enjoying the holiday with their families and would be expecting him to do the same, moreover the places he could escape to in town, such as an eatery or saloon, would soon be closing for the same reason. And even though he could just hide out in the house, choosing to stay closed up in his room, and thus avoiding all of the wedding/holiday activity that had invaded nearly every room downstairs, he didn't want to do that. He'd been doing that for more than a week, and he was tired of it. So he had no choice but to come to the wedding he weakly begrudged, still denying the real truth that had "forced" his choice. Denying that his talk with Marita had somewhat swayed his resolve, along with the scene he'd witnessed the night before, which was Sean, his sisters, and his pa, talking and laughing, doing what he ached to be apart of again, which was being a family with his pa and siblings ...Clay arrived at the entrance to the room, and for a moment hesitated, suddenly recalling all of the things he'd said against the wedding, thinking how he still didn't really agree with it, feeling that he was hypocrite for being there, before he forced his feet forward, choosing to ignore the lingering conflict within, and slowly entered the room. As soon as Clay stepped inside the room he was instantly transported from Christmas to Spring. For the room had none of the yuletide trimmings of the rest of the house, but was bright with flowers, vines of pale pink and white roses, adorning the framing around the doors, along with the windows that were now covered with ivory sheers, instead of the dark thick draperies that were normally up. A white floor cloth lay at the center of the room, extending from the entrance to the front, forming an aisle that was flanked on each side by two large exquisitely carved stone urns that showcased more flowers - the white and pink rose roses in bush form. Clay was amazed at the work they'd done in such a short time he mused, his eyes again scanning the entire room, taking in it's décor, conceding to it's beauty, before he returned his gaze to the front of the room where his pa and Reverend Strickland, who was an older Negro man, stood talking, not noticing that he'd entered the room. Clay stood there nervous, still battling the conflict within. In one breath wanting to be there, to celebrate this "momentous" event with his family, yet still having a problem with the hypocrisy in him doing that. Maybe he should go. He suddenly thought, with increased anxiety and doubt, pressing down upon him. Maybe this wasn't such a "good" idea. He hesitantly thought; then out the blue he promptly moved to go, quickly turning to leave the room, his intense unease convincing him that this wasn't the right time to try and settle things with the family, when his prompt exit was stunned to a stop, upon finding his brother in his path...

"Sean!" He asserted with surprise.

"What are you doing here?" Sean immediately asked; his tone and expression giving nothing away.

"I..." Clay began. Then paused, still recovering from his start, and struggling with his conflicting views, and thus not knowing what to say, whether to convey the truth or a lie. "I..." He awkwardly began again. "I...came here to spea..." He stopped again, sighing with discomfort, briefly averting his gaze from Sean's penetrating stare, before beginning once more. "I'm here...I'm here for your wedding." He finally confessed.

---------------------

Marita sat in front of the mirror, starring at the reflection before her, while Alice carefully pinned pink roses in her hair. She couldn't believe that the image she saw was her – Marita Peters, looking like a princess described in a fairytale, with her hair loosely twisted back, where it gathered into a bun at the nape of her neck, as ringlets of hair hung around her face, and she wore this beautiful gown that only a wealthy white or well-to-do Negro would wear. Marita would've been happy with a nice traveling suit for her wedding garb, but Alice had insisted on something much nicer, contending that she deserved it, and that money was no object being as Sean, "You're fiancé" she'd said, and Ned, would be footing the bill. So in Winchester they'd gone to a boutique owned by a Negro dressmaker, who was known for making ball gowns etc., for well-to-do Negroes across the south, and found the gown that Marita was now wearing. The dress wasn't a wedding gown, but a garment that was originally made for a special dinner or ball. Thus it was simple, yet elegant, and a bit unique for the time that they were in. The gown was a pale celadon green with tiny pink and green brocade flowers, with an A-line skirt, a corset style bodice with a square neckline that slightly plunged, but maintained the proper etiquette for the day, and a pointed waist that was accented with floral appliqués in gold metallic thread, a design that also graced the end of the ¾ sleeves. Marita took a nervous breath still finding this so unbelievable that she was marrying Sean Logan, when just a year ago, heck a week ago, she didn't think that it was possible, yet here today was – her and Sean's wedding day. And she couldn't wait to see him, to speak to him her vows she happily thought, her heart dancing with love as she recalled the beautiful carriage he'd sent to bring her to the Ranch. How it was adorned with flowers and greenery on the outside, and held a loving note and a single red rose on the inside. He was so incredible she sighed within, feeling that she couldn't get any happier than she was right now, when her mind again drifted to her pa, sending a pang of sadness through her heart, prompting her to once more wish that he was there, to pray that he'd somehow change his mind...

"What do you think?" Alice excitedly asked, suspending Marita's thoughts.

"Alice it's beautiful!" Marita happily sighed as she inspected the pale pink roses that were now accenting one side of the bun at the nape of her neck; then she turned her eyes to Alice. "Thank you." She uttered with sincerity as she grabbed the young woman's hand, lightly squeezing it. "Both of you." She added, now turning her gaze to Lexy, who stood next to Alice, and grabbed the young girl's hand like she had her sister's. "For everything." She resumed; then turned her eyes back to Alice. "You know I've always seen you both as the sisters I never had." She poignantly stated, as she returned her gaze to Lexy. "And I'm so happy that you're sharing this day with me." She finished with deep earnest, her voice uneven with emotion, moving Lexy to embrace her in a touching hug.

"You're like a sister to us too." The young girl then said; her tone emotional and small. "And we're so happy that you're marrying Sean." She gleefully conveyed as she pulled back from the hug.

"That we are." Alice genuinely concurred, before Marita could respond to her sister's words, drawing the woman's attention back to her. "You make Sean so... deliriously happy." She continued with an emotional smile, now thinking of the wonderful change in her brother after he and Marita reunited. "And there's no one more perfect for him that you." She declared, touching Marita's heart with her words.

"You two..." Marita sighed with a smile; then paused, shaking her head as tears swelled in her eyes, unable to find the words to again convey her love and thanks, to Lexy and Alice, for their amazing friendship.

"No, you can't cry!" Lexy lightly asserted to Marita, even as tears welled in her own eyes, due to the emotion she saw in the woman's gaze.

"Lexy's right!" Alice agreed with a tearful laugh. "No crying, at least not until the wedding." She said, which heightened their already emotional mirth, causing them to laugh with delight, while bringing forth the joyful tears, that were brought on by the merriment surrounding Marita's impending wedding...

-----------------

Vivian's eyes where fixed ahead, gazing at the Logan home that was only yards away, moving closer as her coachman drove them forward. She knew that it was probably a waste of time coming there, for she'd told herself over and over that the discussion she'd overheard between her servants was pure gossip, but she couldn't stay away. For no matter how hard she'd tried she couldn't get the servant's conversation out of her mind. And she kept replaying Sean's confessed feelings for that Negro, and the way he'd looked at her, and touched her that day he'd pulled her from the fire. Vivian couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth to what she'd heard. Even though she'd reasoned that Sean would never be so foolish as to marry that Negro, she had to know for sure. And if it was indeed the truth, she thought with disgust and ire, she'd stop him. She vowed. Because there was no way in hell she was going to let him further sully her name, destroy what little dignity she had left, by marrying that Negro...